


Reset Theory: Start again

by DreamWalker84



Series: Reset Theory [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, I hate tags, Implied Character Death, Learning to Feel, MC is not the Reader, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, POV First Person, Reset Theory (Mystic Messenger), Some Graphic Violence, Wizard makes a cameo, long short story, possible spoilers!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10499100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWalker84/pseuds/DreamWalker84
Summary: Two birds, one stone, he said; I could get my wish, and he would be free from a troublesome issue.Oh, had I known then what I know now…No, I still would have agreed.Now I return to the same week, over and over, reliving and re-watching MC as she romances each member of the RFA...And I have to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, terrible name, but it's the best I have right now.  
> This was inspired by a series of songs I found (particularly this: https://youtu.be/p627icsgjeM) and the story got so stuck in my head that it needed to be typed out before I could do anything else. MC refers to the character from the game, not the main character of this piece. This is also assuming that most readers have also played the other games from Cheritz; the 'wizard' makes appearances in both games, and somehow he showed up in this story too. Eh, happens right?  
> A forward: I do not own anything but the phone I played on, and the computer I wrote this on. Mystic Messenger belongs to Cheritz, and I strongly recommend playing all of their games. I have NOT finished the special scenes, only read about the death of V. I am still working on clearing all of the endings before moving on to the special endings. It may or may not be in sync with the game, so be aware of that when you read it,  
> Again, thank you for reading :)

How many times have I reset?

How many years have I spent here, watching, waiting…

Falling and crying…

Waking up on the first day, all over again…

I am trying tighten the hold on my shoulder, ignoring the stinging pain, and the nausea, and focus as best I can.

How many more times…or is this it?

I remember the first time. The game lit up on my phone, and I was so excited to finally find something to tear my mind away from the pathetic excuse for an existence I had been harboring. I was alone; family was dead, friends long moved on with their lives, and work was simply a place to bring home a paycheck. Nobody knew my name, and nobody seemed to care.

Mystic Messenger: the game would show me what it meant to feel. I didn’t know it then, how could I? I felt alive when I played that game, and I quickly finished the entirety of it. That night, I met him.

He called himself a wizard; I was skeptical of course. Magic does not exist, not here. He said he could make my deepest desire come true. I didn’t even know I truly had a desire to make true. In return for his gift, I had to complete a task. Two birds, one stone, he said; I could get my wish, and he would be free from a troublesome issue.

Oh, had I known then what I know now…

No, I still would have agreed.

I was desperate then. Empty. Afraid. His near-crazy eyes sparkled at me, still holding my phone in the café with free Wi-Fi. He said another force was interfering with his work, and he was quickly running out of energy to maintain it. He wouldn’t explain what work that was, nor did he say how it was interfering. But…he looked tired. And it was a way out.

He gave me two things; fluency in a language I had previously not known, and an understanding of computer coding, on par with some of the best computer scientists in the world. At the time, I had no idea what I would need these things for. Then everything faded away.

I could no longer remember my name, my family’s faces, the place I was born, even simple memories were simply gone. When I woke, I was in Seoul.

It was a busy street, and I was simply standing there, on the sidewalk, holding my phone in my hand, still wearing the same clothes I had worn when I went to that café in California that autumn day.

This was the first day.

A young woman caught my eye. Immediately I knew her, long brown hair, slender figure, wearing a sweater and skirt, staring at her phone and pausing occasionally to respond to whomever she was texting. Then my phone vibrated in my hand, and the game came up.

The chatroom began to scroll right before my eyes. People talked, and it was as if I was no longer playing, but re-watching the games I had already completed. It didn’t take long for me to realize who that woman was.

I followed at a safe distance, knowing she was a bit unobservant. I kept an eye on the chatroom, following the story as it magically unfolded before me. I was surprised, to say the least. Here I was, oceans away from where I began, following a story I had believed to be just a beloved game. She entered a large, modern style apartment building, and I followed, keeping my head down as I entered the elevator with her. Still, she typed, unaware of my presence.

On the 14th floor, she exited, and I did too, she turned right from the elevator, and I went left, slowly, pretending to pay attention to my phone more than the only other body on this floor. She walked up to a door, and rang the bell…

It was exactly the same.

I ducked behind a large pillar and sat down, dropping my purse on the floor beside me. She entered the apartment, she was left to the chatroom, was interrogated, and then…

She was asked to be the newest member of the RFA.

This was MC; my previous ideas had been confirmed. I watched the chatroom in rapt fascination as the whole story played out. If MC was real, then…then the rest of them are as well.

She stayed there, that night. I remember wondering what her name was, where she lived, what she did for a living, if she was a student, and how old she was. I remember waiting in that hallway till long after dark, noticing that no other people came or went from the 14th floor.

It was nearing 11 at night when I finally got hungry for the first time. I found I had a black credit card with no name on it, tucked away inside my purse. “My luck has finally improved!” I remember thinking, as I rode the elevator downstairs, and flagged a taxi for a ride to a nearby moderately priced hotel.

The next three days were spent between watching the chatroom in the hotel room, and exploring the city. I don’t remember what name I used then. I had never been out of the United States before, and this was a whole new country—a whole new culture—that I was very foreign to. I bought clothes, a suitcase, and went to a salon for the first time in who knows how long.

But that is not the point of the story. From time to time, I would catch a glimpse of the ‘wizard’ in the crowd, watching me intently, but as soon as I focused on him, he simply vanished.

Then day 5 began. I was eating a delightful breakfast in the restaurant in the hotel when I noticed the game had switched to Zen’s route. I knew what was going to happen, and I watched.

But I didn’t do anything. I simply lived.

And the week continued.

The day of the RFA party arrived, and I remembered seeing it on the news in the hotel room. It made major news, since the recent scandal victim was a member of the RFA. I had the volume off the television and watched the story unfold on my phone.

I went to sleep without a care in the world, without any knowledge of what was going to happen.

I woke up the next morning on the street, wearing the same clothes that I had arrived in, but holding the purchased suitcase filled with clothes. And I saw MC, just as I had the first day, phone in hand, marching to the same apartment building.

It took a few ‘reset’ attempts before I began to understand what my purpose was. With each new attempt, I was left with the things I had in my possession, walking in the street. Each time, I felt something different, but I couldn’t quite understand what it was that felt different.

I was supposed to change the story.

The day I bought the nicest laptop I could find changed the world for me. I began to funnel information into anything connected to Zen, the RFA, even this elusive MC, of which I still did not know her name. I created a similar Tripter bot (it is exactly like Twitter, just a different name), almost an exact duplicate to 707’s bot, and sent his pictures and ‘trips’ even further. I managed to hack into Metube (again, different name for Youtube, same layout, even same coloring and concepts), and mass upload videos and share homemade music videos of his performances, or simply his pictures made into music videos. I began checking out the artist Echo Girl. By the time the route changed, I was well armed, and my plans were already set in motion.

I had fished out every piece of information regarding Echo Girl. I had sorted it all, somehow, and when the rumors started, I was the voice that started the defense of Zen. “What kind of woman would brag about her chest size, and then accuse an actor she fantasized for in the same breath?” was the first Trip I threw out there.

Soon, Tripter was plastered with my ‘name’. It took me a few resets to finally decide a name to go with: Sorei. I am sure the name was not lost on those who paid attention; it translated more or less to a protector spirit, a ghost, in Japanese. I am no ancestor, but this was the task I was aiming to undertake.

By now, I had developed something of a kinship—a one sided affection—for Zen. I don’t know when I noticed it the first time, but it was around day 6 of this attempt that I recognized it.

I had purchased myself a motorcycle by this time, and had taken enough lessons to ride efficiently, if not with some degree of advanced skill. I was outside of Zen’s house when Echo Girl came running out, and the manager took her picture.

I never went near the RFA members unless I was somehow obscured from view. When I finish purchasing a fish-shaped bun from the street vendor, I see Zen exit his house, clearly still flustered from the outrageous behavior Echo Girl had displayed. I know he sees me too, and he waves ‘hello’ to me before walking down the street. I have my helmet and leathers on, he could not see my face.

When the RFA party arrived this time, I was anxious. I switched hotels, landing closer to the venue than before. I had tried to find a way to attend, but resources were limited. Instead, I hid away in the mass of fans and reporters, and watched.

I stayed to the back, and seeing that I am a bit taller than the average height, was able to see quite clearly as Zen and MC exited a nice car, dressed like movie stars, and eventually get inside. I considered leaving them to their peace and leaving, but with a smirk, I thought “why not? What’s the worst that can happen?” and found a way inside.

I don’t remember being quite so sneaky before—but then again, I don’t remember anything from before. I found an upper room in the building with an unlocked window. With minimal effort I disabled the security cameras just long enough to get inside.

It still amazes me that I did this without Seven catching on. I suppose the ‘wizard’ had something to do with it, but perhaps I was just lucky. I found a jumper that was labeled for some of the set up crew, and quickly threw it over my leathers, adding a baseball cap and pulling my hair through to a ponytail at the back of my head. Almost right away I was tasked with adjusting one of the spotlights. I fit in well enough that the manager had not noticed me.

Zen makes his speech, and MC looks delighted. They auction off V’s photos, and I can just catch a glimpse of the group of them talking in the dining hall, before I feel the need to leave. I pass Seven as he types away on his computer, and I try to remain as calm and ordinary as I could.

But he looks up when I walk by. His face—at first—doesn’t seem to change. It is only a moment, and it feels like it goes in slow motion, but he focuses his amber eyes, squinting just a little to watch me as I round the rear of the stage, and disappear up a staircase out of sight.

I discard the uniform and leave out a back entrance. My bike is left untouched, and I ride off to the hotel.

It is years before I hear anything again. I make daily stops by Zen’s house, riding by at first. I’d catch glimpses of the two of them, obviously in love. I even managed to snap a few pictures through an open window once, nothing obscene, just the two of them making dinner, and once of them watching one of his musicals on the television. I remained a ghost to the RFA, a silent, unseen protector, well beyond when I thought I would.

It was after Valentine’s day several years after MC’s first event when I felt the shift again. I had known, when I did not wake up on the street on day 12, that I had done something right. With my usual stealth, I followed their car as Zen drove MC to the apartment, and disappeared inside. I didn’t need to follow them to know what happens.

And I couldn’t help the sad smile that my lips press into as I rev the engine and drive away into the night.

But my story does not end there.

Next is Jaehee.

It takes only one reset for me to figure out what to do here. It required little from me, just adjusting some numbers on the contract to sell the building that Jaehee and MC would later buy to convert into their coffee house.

Yes, this part is rather shallow, but it really was that easy. I was the first customer to buy a coffee when the doors opened. The two of them looked quite content. I couldn’t help but be happy for them. I tipped them—which was not practiced as much here—and left before they could ask questions.

I woke in my hotel room on the same date in autumn. At least, since I had this room, I didn’t need to worry about having a pile of things appear on the sidewalk when I wake up at the start of a new route.

Yoosung was the most trying. I had spent the first few days, while the start of the game replayed, driving the back roads and trails in the mountains that surround the city, desperately trying to locate the Mint Eye headquarters. My thought, at the time, was that I could somehow stop Yoosung from being injured. The young man was probably my in game best friend—I loved his attitude, and he always seemed to make me smile with his cute antics. It was strange, that I felt a friendship to Yoosung so soon, but nonetheless, the boy had a piece of my heart.

But this route ended up much more of a struggle than I had expected. I had reset three times without success at finding Mint Eye. Each time, I would find Yoosung in the hospital with Seven, his eye covered by a bandage, and dried blood being cleaned from his cheek. It hurt.

Frustrated, I finally attempted to infiltrate Seven’s computer in his fancy sports car. The problem was that each play-through, he drove a different one. I ended up having to hack into the GPS of each of his cars, and simply wait until one of them left his estate.

The first attempt failed miserably.

I drove for three hours without lights or my phone to escape the agents that were deployed when Seven notified them of my cyber-attack. It was then that I realized I could manually reset myself. I had simply hit reset on the game, and in a blink I was in the hotel room again.

The second attempt was less miserable. It just didn’t prove helpful either.

The third, however—and mind you this was the 6th reset—gave me the information I needed, and I was able to follow Seven and Yoosung as they traveled up the mountain roads. While Yoosung was being tortured, I created a distraction—which was not my first intention, but it did the trick. As the torture continued, I was certain that, with my presence, he would die. I returned to a kitchen area at the far end of the house, turned on the gas oven, and left the door open. Even in the rear of the building, outside and far from the room the boy was kept in, I could occasionally hear his painful cries on the wind. It made the wait for the gas to build in the kitchen seem that much longer.

When I could smell the gas through the open window, I tossed a lit match in the window, and ducked.

I don’t know if it happens like this in real life, but I had already come to grips with the idea that I did not live a normal life.

The kitchen exploded with a massive fireball, which took out the kitchen and part of the connecting wing of the house. I got just clear of the explosion and ran to my bike, hidden behind some trees in the surrounding woods, and walked it to a higher path I had found on one of my previous attempts. I watched Seven pull Yoosung out of the building in the confusion, and the two of them drove off.

After that, the party, I snuck in similarly to Zen’s route, and was happy to see Yoosung, bandaged but smiling, as he kissed MC.

I attended their wedding shortly after that, as one of the caterers. It was a cute wedding, and I was, truthfully, very happy for my one-sided best friend.

I even cried.

It was a strange feeling, really. It isn’t as if I have never been happy for someone, but I felt a bit of…pride, knowing that I helped make it happen. It was a strange feeling to have a friend, even when he didn’t know I existed.

I brought a stray kitten in to his clinic once he graduated with his doctorate in veterinary medicine. I didn’t remove the helmet, just lowered the glass to speak to MC (who was the nurse/receptionist). “I took her in last night, named her Lisa. I can’t keep her, or I would, but she seems to be sick. Can you please help her out? I am afraid the bike ride may have upset her a little too much.”

Of course they took her in, and I left, knowing I gave them one last gift before I was going to wake up again.

Then, it was Jumin’s turn.

This was difficult for me; not because it took so much effort on my part to hack into his security feed, record his voice so I could order his guards to let me through over the phone, and the massive amounts of disguises I had to go through. I even hired on as his maid for a time, and he fired me just before MC went to live with him.

It was difficult because Jumin is difficult. The first reset, MC jumped from the bedroom window of his penthouse in order to escape his prison. I barely hit the reset button before she hit the pavement below. There were a few where I simply couldn’t get close enough to change anything at all. I must have lived months, repeating the same week over and over, until I got hired onto his security team.

I was working closely with his chief security officer, investigating rumors and information that Mr. Han fed to us. Most of it was useless; but on occasion, there were little things I could tell were real. Of course, I couldn’t go directly into the apartment, as I was not supposed to know where it was. However, after a time, I was able to imbed myself as a computer expert and assist Jaehee for information on the issue regarding Glam Choi and her sister Sarah.

It was one afternoon when Jaehee stopped by my desk in the small corner office of the C&R building when I suggested she wear a wire-tap. At first she declined, saying it was entirely illogical for anyone to approach her for information. “You are the closest person to Mr. Han.” I inform her coldly. I stood, brushing the red hair from my face (I had colored it before this assignment, from my usual blonde, to very red). “If they want to know how to get to him, they will have to go through you, it is their only choice. And, if the rumors continue, they may say something in your presence they would not have uttered normally.”

“I see. That does make sense.” The woman agreed, thinking a moment. Finally she relented and I was able to attach a small recorder to the inside of one button on her coat, and a small recording device disguised as a pen. Straight up James Bond stuff. It was pretty cool.

In any case, it wasn’t long before she came to me. Jaehee had not worn the same jacket that day, but had the pen in hand purely on accident, when the Choi sisters approached her in her apartment. I was overjoyed with the recordings, and Jaehee herself seemed rather pleased that it worked, before getting summoned to Mr. Han.

So the days went much like this. More than working with Mr. Han, I worked with Jaehee to support him. Over the last days, I could feel a stirring of something in my chest when he would walk by. His voice was smooth, calm, always collected and precise. I admired him, but more than that, he was openly dominant in his mannerisms, and that alone, made him physically attractive.

It did not take long for this reset to finish. I was one of the guards on duty for the event; and Jumin’s proposal was in fact quite breathtaking and romantic. But, during the party I could not help but notice that Luciel was following my movements, regardless of what I did, or where I went. It was as if he was curious about me, that something I did triggered some sense in him.

I just kept my cool, and went along with the act, nodding to him from a distance, and asking if all was well as I passed. He always replied the same, “everything is fine. Thanks.”

I was present with them with the away team that escorted the couple on their honeymoon, and I was present when Jumin purchased a large portion of MC’s Valentine ’s Day gifts. I helped her in the apartment while he was away, as I was the only female security guard on staff, and offered her one suggestion for a gift, of which I let her pick out and I retrieved. A length of red silk ribbon. I told her he’d know what to do with it, and not to worry.

I returned to my hotel room that night, and packed my bags. On the next reset, I’ll be moving to a new location, on the off chance that someone has been following me.

That night I had strange dreams.

It was as if the extended scenes were changed. Someone was messing with the story—right before my eyes! I felt like my body was being torn apart, watching everything unravel, and fragments of memories from my past exploded like glass in my head. I was burning up!

I don’t remember…I don’t remember!

The story, the story is changing and I don’t remember what it was supposed to be!

I panicked, even in my sleep. There was a gunshot, someone falling, a woman’s scream…I screamed, trying to alert someone, anyone to the catastrophe that was going to happen if this kept going.

But it didn’t.

The sun was hot on my face through the broken blinds of my room. My phone confirmed the date in early autumn. I was at the start.

But that means it is…

Saeyoung…

Luciel.

Seven.

The man with many names, many faces, many personalities…

But none of them are truly him.

It was the first morning, watching MC again, as I had so many other times, that my mind drifted to him. I had come to know him, in a sense, over the course of the many play through attempts I had already completed. It was much harder now, and there was an immense choking pain that was already building in my chest, knowing he was going to pick _her_.

It isn’t jealousy, not really. But there was a part of me that wished I could be her. She is so clueless, so shallow, and almost empty, like a shell without any life inside. She laughed, she sang, she cried, she spoke, did all the things a person could do; but it was so…animated.

She was bright, like the sun, and it lit his life up like nothing the sad secret agent had known. I wanted to be that sun, I wanted to be the light…

Wanting, that was something new. Perhaps…

The wizard appeared more those first days of the first attempt. I started early, buying the cabin in the woods that they would later use to hide in. I had so much knowledge now, about V, about Saeran, about Mint Eye, and I could only feed small parts of it to him. I had to remain the ghost.

The first reset wasn’t enough. I was unable to…do anything. I watched as Luciel faded away with the remnants of his faith. I cried for him, I wanted to call him, to comfort him when he was in his darkest moments.

But she was there, trying to do the same thing.

I found myself walking the hall on the 14th floor often. I knew they were inside, I knew MC was trying to make him open up, to lose the whole ‘tough guy secret agent’ thing and just give in to his emotions. And I already knew, that in his soul, he already had.

I hit reset as they drove down the freeway to catch up with Vanderwood.

The second attempt, before Luciel had arrived, I found my way to the door. I was in my motorcycle leathers, and my helmet was still firmly in place. The cameras moved, focusing on me. For a moment, a dark, desperate, selfish moment, I considered hacking into the lock…just to make the place explode.

In that moment, I realized what the pain was; I loved Luciel. Somehow, at some point, that lonely boy had snagged my heart. I could not do anything to hurt him…

Even if it meant giving him to someone else.

I looked up at one of the cameras, and waved weakly. I could feel a hot tear rolling down my cheek inside my helmet as I went to the stairs, and walked down.

Hacking into the security system as The Ghost was not difficult, per se. It was a constant battle with Luciel, having to re-evaluate the algorithms every couple of minutes to remain in the system long enough to implant a tiny worm—a miniscule virus that let me see what he was doing.

There is a language in computer code. It isn’t just a series of 1 and 0. There is personality; there is a signature, a piece of the scientist who created it, lodged in it. I could see where he moved the cameras; I could see what he made stronger, what he ignored.

I focused on the weak points. He was not focused on them anyway, so I spent my time mirroring his style. I went through blocks of information, cleaning up the damage, changing the algorithms enough that his brother—the hacker—could not infiltrate here.

There was little I could do about the exterior window.

I considered trying to make some sort of magnetic pulse to knock out all computer systems in the building, so Saeran’s bomb button wouldn’t work; but upon further analysis of the bomb system, I realized such a disruption would most likely make the bomb go off anyway. All I could do is wait.

I was down the hall when I saw Luciel rush the door. I was well out of the way when Saeran ran past me to escape the bomb threat. It was hours before I left, shoving the laptop into my backpack and returning to the new hotel room, close to the freeway exit that led to the Mint Eye headquarters.

That night I led his searches for the origin of the mysterious Mint Eye emails. After that, I gave him the location of the building, and watched as he went through each security protocol the building had. I took notes here, recording where the cameras and sensors were, what doors had locks that could be picked, what ones were computer run, and so on.

I could barely watch the chat room. It hurt to see Seven so…attached to MC.

This is what it feels like to love and lose.

But I did, and in the darkness and solitude of my room, I spoke out loud to him. “It is okay, Saeyoung. You are not alone; you will never, ever, be alone again,” I told him through the phone. I knew he couldn’t find me, I knew he would never hear those words from my lips. But it felt better to reassure him, even in my own silence. I promised him that I would save his brother, that I would not let him hurt himself or anyone else, ever again.

It is this promise that I now suffer from.

Over the next few days, as the day of the party drew near, I visited the room. Walking just in view of the security system, and looking up at the camera. In my way, it was me telling him that he was not alone. More than once, I heard him open the door, and search the hall after I had already shut the stairwell door.

I went to the cabin early. I made sure there was some dry goods in the cupboards, made sure the water was on, that there was plenty of candles and lanterns in the place…and that the bed had sheets available, and plenty of warm blankets.

If this is my final play through, then I will sell it as soon as they are safe, and I won’t have to think about Saeyoung holding MC, kissing her, imprinting himself in her…

It isn’t important. I am not trying to learn jealousy.

The long bike ride home gave me loads of open road to ponder what brought me here. I was in the last  character’s route. This could be…this could be it. What would happen, if I succeed? Will I be jaunted back to my boring life, my uneventful job, my thankless existence?

Or will I be stuck here, forced to watch the stories unfold over and over? Made to sit still and watch MC romance and tame every one of the men I had come so close to loving, may be even harder than the life I had abandoned. Then again…

I could simply follow as a silent observer; the protector of the protector, until either I die, or he does. I have no intention of letting that wonderful man fade from the light. If it means I die, no resets, no do overs, no saves, but he gets to finally _live_...

Then that’s what I’d do.

I do not regret this choice.

My fear of being discovered was quickly being dissolved. I made several passes at the cameras, each time hoping maybe once, our eyes would lock, that he would be able to reach through and hear my thoughts. He did manage to catch sight of me going down the stairs once. He called after me, threatening to call the cops if I stayed around, but I pretended not to hear him, and ran down the stairs before he could follow me. He didn’t sound truly threatening, scared perhaps, but not like I would be injured. He knew I was not the hacker.

But there was a sense of familiarity in his voice. Perhaps…just perhaps he remembered me from the others?

At this point, anything is possible.

It was the night of the party, and I finished installing a sensor with a hidden camera in the cabin. Just to make sure they are uninjured and made it to safety. It also gave me a little bit of a feed into the security of the building. I know he’ll shut it down shortly after arriving, but until then, I can remain as the Ghost.

Knowing he was far from home, I went to work on breaking into the security system at Saeyoung’s bunker-house. It took the entirety of the night before the party, and the whole day of before I was able to get what I needed.

I created a program; yes, it was premature, but still. I needed to install it directly into his main cpu for it to work at full potential. It was made to immediately delete all traces of Saeran’s name from every file inputted worldwide. The virus was attached to security codes from the C&R building, and the security team computer network from my previous routes, and would spread like wildfire as soon as it was installed to a computer that had threads in every source-code the world over.

Of course, it was mine. I did not mimic Seven when I created this virus. It was designed strictly in my own image—nearly unseen, sneaking in when no one would see, protecting those who need it most, and evaporating before anyone can catch it.

It wasn’t easy to create, but after a half dozen energy drinks, a pot of coffee, and enough water to drown a full grown man, I had it, and the means to break into the 707 stronghold. I am sure he wouldn’t appreciate this until he looked at it. _If_ he looked at it. He would be doing the same thing soon, wiping all traces of himself and his brother from all files, to protect them both. I am just doing it for him.

It is now that my body feels like it’s on fire again. The dream from weeks ago comes flooding back in burning flashes. I know what it is, I know what they are trying to change; the ‘secret ending’ where Saeran shoots V.

They are trying to make him kill more? Kill less? Hurt someone else? What is it that they are trying to do?

I vomit into a trashcan in the bathroom, as the visions burn and pound in my head. It only makes me more determined to make sure I win.

As one last precaution—or perhaps aid is more like it—I manage to throw down a spike strip when Vanderwood leaves with Seven’s car. Sorry Luciel; it’s just a car, you can replace the tires. It slows the other agent down, having to change the tire (as it would take more time to go back through the bunker and get the last vehicle from the garage).

“You’re welcome, MC.” I mutter to myself as my bike speeds away toward the city center.

I stop in at the party venue at the end of the event. It was lively, and I could clearly make out the figures of Jumin, Yoosung, Zen, and Jaehee in the crowd. I don’t even attempt to disguise myself this time, and walk in with my helmet under my arm. I make a large donation, of which I had forwarded from the credit card, and leave, feeling the RFA’s eyes on me as I retreat out the back.

The next days are a blur. Darkness and light mean little, as the flashes of pain and broken memory flood into every moment, regardless if I am asleep or awake. The hotel room was littered with empty bottles, and started to smell like a bar by the time I got the notification that there was something happening again at the Mint Eye headquarters. I had my leathers partially bullet proofed—since lining the entire thing would reduce mobility too far, and waited for the right day.

I was geared and speeding toward the city limits by the time I got the notice that Jumin’s security team was on the move.

The road was dusty, and my bike, now worn with many miles and untold months of constant strain, struggled up the dirt and gravel road. Around the bend, I saw one of Seven’s cars, still running, but parked on the side of the road. I sped by, knocking up rocks and shattering the glass on the driver’s side. I need to hurry.

The flashes of broken dreams were blinding me, and staying focused enough to drive was proving much more difficult. It felt like my brain was burning alive! I won’t stop, I kept telling myself, pushing the bike further.

The building came into view before long, and I could clearly see Luciel slumped on the floor, his previous wound having bled him to unconsciousness. V’s hair could just be seen in the back of the room, and there was Rika, wearing some sort of ornate religious robe, her blond hair well kempt and her eyes wide and crazed. Then there was Saeran.

And the gun.

I revved the engine and got low to the bike. With one punch, I went flying with my machine through the massive bay window at the front of the building. Again, this is not how real life worked, but now, now I flew through, glass shattering, and bike landing in the center of the tiled room, sliding 180 degrees to face the window.

What happened next bled between the blinding memories. I was off my bike, running before I could think of what else to do. I leapt with the sound of thunder echoing in the room, and fiery pain blazing through my right shoulder.

I don’t remember landing, partially on V. There is a hole in his left shoulder, high above his heart, but it bled profusely nonetheless. Rika screamed, holding her head, watching him writhe in pain on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

Then I run at Saeran, my helmet is off now, and he is shaking with the gun in hand, muttering about killing someone. I trap the gun between him and me. I feel the hot barrel pressed against my stomach, shaking as he looks crazed, panicked, staring at me. “Saeran, calm down. No one can die. No one should die.” I am yelling. My arms wrap around his neck, and we fall to the floor. “Saeran…there are people who miss you, who love you, do not destroy it…do not destroy yourself…”

“Excuses, lies, LIES!” he screams and my head pulses, my arm grinds in the socket, and I can feel the blood saturating my shirt beneath the leather coat.

“Saeran…it isn’t your fault, nor is it Saeyoung’s. The brain…it is a funny thing, it breaks, and it is so hard to put back together, it can break other peoples…” I am saying, trying to calm him. It isn’t working.

“LIES!” he is sobbing into my shoulder, still shaking with his finger still on the trigger. “One left, one left, kill the lies, no more!”

One more…must be bullets…I hope he means bullets.

“If anyone will die…make it me. Take it all out on me.” I whisper. The pain is getting worse. And I bite back the blazing fire in my head. “I will take it, they do not deserve it. Let them…let them make it right.”

He looks at me, and for a moment, I think he is almost human.

But then I hear the muffled shot, and fire unlike any I have felt is burning up my insides. He starts crying, and I smile. “It is…okay. Let’s bring her back. Let’s all go home, and be whole.” I cough, and blood spatters onto his shoulder.

The doors slam open, and the security team rushes in. I stand, avoiding the guards as they subdue everyone, and tend to V. I pick up my helmet. It really does feel like I am a ghost. No one speaks to me, or even seems to notice me until I pick up my bike from the floor with my good arm.

“Hey! Wait!” I hear Vanderwood yell from somewhere in the throngs of people. I grab hold of the bike and break through the rear door, no longer caring about being injured. Warm blood is pulsing out of my stomach, and pooling in the seat beneath me.

I struggle to remain awake on the drive back to the city.

The edges of my vision are already dark and blurry, and I just about crash into the front gate at the 707 compound. The helmet is tossed to the grass as soon as I stand. My injured arm holds pressure against my stomach wound, as the good hand forces the hand computer to work its magic, unlocking each door with ease.

The house smells like sweet soda and salty chips. Even though it seems relatively clean, the scent is still heavy in the air. I can’t help but chuckle, and trudge forward.

I hear the squish of my feet on the hard floor. I tumble to my knees, as the blood loss starts to effect my equilibrium. When I find his computer, I fumble with the USB drive containing the virus, and insert it.

Right away, the virus takes hold, spreading throughout his system. “Live well, Saeyoung, my…heart…” I whisper, and retrace my bloody boot prints out of the house.

My vision is spinning, but now, it doesn’t matter. I heave the bike upright one more time, and get on without my helmet, looking up at the security camera once, before taking off toward the city center.

There was only one more stop I could imagine going, as my life was slipping away. I could barely keep balanced on the bike, and it slowed down, and sped up depending on my lucidity, and wove across the lane, between cars without much more than a thought.

Before long, I was in front of the apartment. My legs shook with uncontrollable tremors as I ditched the bike on the sidewalk, and heaved myself up the steps.

I fell three times before making it to the elevator. There was just a small spot in my vision that was still clear. My head was quickly filling with blackness, and thoughts were starting to slip away as they came to me. The pain of my bullet wounds no longer registered, just the shaking of my weakening legs, and the stain of red wherever I went.

How long will I bleed? How long do I have left?

Will someone see me? Or will I truly become the Ghost?

The bell of the 14th floor shakes me awake, as I crawl to the hallway. I am leaving a trail of my hand on the wall, since I am using it to keep me upright as I walk to the apartment. My feet feel so heavy, so does my head, my arms…but so hollow and light inside…

So now, here I am, leaning against the front door of Rika’s apartment, thinking back and watching the blood seep between my fingers.

How many times have I cried?

How many times have I watched the man I came to love see right through me?

How much longer do I have to wake up, and do this all over again?

My hand fumbles with the doorbell, before my legs give out and I fall backwards against the far wall of the hall.

It is fading now.

Everything.

It’s all going black.

It is funny, I started this feeling like I didn’t know what these feelings were, thinking I had never felt love, life, happiness…

Now, as I watch the door creek open, it is all I want.

I want to be seen!

Two figures come out, MC, and…The wizard.

“Tell them…I loved them…” I manage to choke out.

“Well done. You may rest now.” Is all he says. My eyes roll back, and my thoughts drift away. I can feel one more tear fall down my cheek.

It is fading, slipping away…Is this…the end? I never found who was trying to stop the story; I never discovered how I was kept here, repeating the loops over and over. I never got to say hello, to hug them, to tell them how proud I was of them, how happy I was for them…I never got to say “I love you” when it mattered.

And I had felt it. All of it.

But it doesn’t matter now. It is all falling from me.

If I wake up tomorrow, I hope this recording survives. I want to remember what it feels like.


End file.
